Love Beyond the Grave

Hejia Fengyi had a frail and delicate physique, yet possessed a mouth that never seemed to stop once it started talking, as if all his energy had been devoted to that silver tongue of his. The dignified Imperial Preceptor chattered away like some charlatan.

Sure enough, after only a brief pause, as soon as they turned a corner, he launched into another torrent of words: "A few months ago, you asked me to investigate his background. I looked into it for a while, but then you suddenly stopped asking. Now that he’s returned to court, I took one look at him—whew! The ghostly energy clinging to him is thicker than anything, not to mention the curse tied to you. I puzzled over it for ages, but just now, seeing how he grabbed you, it finally clicked. It’s all summed up in four words—hopelessly lovesick!"

He Simu glanced up at the bustling crowd on the street. If not for the risk of causing unnecessary panic, she would have made Hejia Fengyi vanish from her sight immediately.

Why was the road back to the Imperial Preceptor’s residence so long?

"Of course, this naturally has nothing to do with me. Seeing how indifferent you were just now, you must have rejected him, so it has nothing to do with you either. That young lady upstairs seems like a perfect match for him—a golden couple, chatting away happily, clearly smitten with each other. I imagine he’ll soon forget about you, a woman over four hundred years old… ahem, I mean, a woman of vast experience, and throw himself into the arms of his fair maiden."

Before Hejia Fengyi could finish speaking, the cane in his hand vanished into thin air. He staggered, only to find the same cane now pressed against his throat.

He Simu held the cane pointed at him and smiled. "Say that again?"

Hejia Fengyi obediently replied, "Elder Ancestor, you must hear the truth sometimes."

"What truth are you spouting?"

"Is any of it untrue? Aren’t you over four hundred years old?"

"They clearly just met and are still awkwardly polite to each other. You deliberately called me over and then exaggerated things to stir up trouble. Who taught you to become such a gossip?"

Hejia Fengyi feigned sudden realization. "Ah! So they’re not actually smitten with each other—that’s the crux of the matter!"

"..."

With a snap of his fingers, the cane returned to his hand. Leaning on it, he sighed dramatically. "Elder Ancestor, how could you snatch something from an ailing man?"

He Simu wondered if, in his past lives, Hejia Fengyi had his Soul Fire devoured by her, and was now here to collect his debt.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Quite the glib tongue. Does that mean you’ve finished the tasks I assigned you? If you don’t capture the Rakshasa Hall Master soon, I’ll summon ghost soldiers to search the palace and drag him out myself."

Hejia Fengyi immediately straightened his expression and tilted his umbrella slightly toward her. "No, no, that won’t do. Personal ties aside, I am, after all, the Imperial Preceptor who serves the court. I’m paid to solve problems, not invite them. If I let a horde of Evil Ghosts into the Southern Capital, wouldn’t that be dereliction of duty? Don’t worry—I already know where he is."

"If you already know, what are you waiting for?"

"Elder Ancestor, this is the Southern Capital—the heart of Great Liang, where mortal affairs are most intricately tangled. A single misstep could unravel everything. It’s not like the border towns or the Ghost Realm, where you can act as you please. No offense, but I often think you rule as the Ghost King too simply and bluntly. No political maneuvering, no checks and balances—it’s only thanks to your immense Magical Power that you’ve managed these past three hundred years."

He Simu paused mid-step, then chuckled softly before turning to him. "Why don’t you take over, then?"Seeing the blue glow from the Ghost King Lamp at her waist, Hejia Fengyi smiled and said, "I'd be honored to serve you, but alas, I'm too open-hearted to become an Evil Ghost. I can only do my best while I'm still alive. Don't worry, I'll pick an auspicious day to handle this matter properly."

It had been years since they last met, and Hejia Fengyi's eccentricities had only grown—now even ghost hunting required an auspicious date.

Noticing He Simu's impatience, Hejia Fengyi immediately put on a fragile expression, furrowing his pale brows. "A formidable Evil Ghost like the Rakshasa Hall Master is beyond the abilities of those idle sorcerers under my command. I must capture it myself. But you know my constitution, Ancestor—I must choose a day when ghostly energy is weakest and spiritual energy strongest. Otherwise, what if it shortens my already limited lifespan or harms my delicate health?"

Watching Hejia Fengyi's animated speech despite his pallid complexion, He Simu thought being a charlatan was beneath him—he should have been a storyteller. He might even have become Great Liang's premier raconteur.

When they finally arrived at the State Preceptor's residence and stepped under the eaves, Ziji spoke her first words of the day: "Umbrella."

Hejia Fengyi turned and handed her the folded umbrella. The quiet, elegant beauty then placed it neatly in the corridor, perfectly aligned.

Everything in the State Preceptor's residence was immaculately arranged—not a single item out of place. Tables, chairs, and decorations were positioned with precision. If anything was moved even an inch, Ziji would soon notice and restore it. Even a shattered plate would be replaced with an identical one. From He Simu's recent observations, Ziji was also remarkably strong.

This master-servant pair was a study in contrasts: one never stopped talking, the other barely spoke; one was unkempt, the other fastidious; one frail as a reed, the other robust.

He Simu mused that Hejia Fengyi had somehow found the perfect maid for himself.

Hejia Fengyi's jest about Duan Xu falling ill from the rain proved unfounded. After recovering for a few days, Duan Xu donned a new dark blue outfit, selected numerous gifts, and energetically visited Wang Suyi to apologize.

Wang Suyi was astonished by the lavish presents, insisting it wasn't necessary—her mother had already explained that Duan Xu had been chasing bandits that day, and state affairs took precedence.

But Duan Xu shook his head. "I wasn't pursuing bandits. I saw the girl I admire."

Wang Suyi froze at his words. If Duan Xu already had someone in his heart, was this extravagant visit meant to reject the Wang family's proposal? Shouldn't such matters be handled by his father instead?

Duan Xu continued, "You're aware of the discussions between your father and mine, Miss Wang? In this capital, when it comes to marriage alliances, there aren't many choices among our circles."

His bluntness made Wang Suyi nod in agreement.

Duan Xu smiled. "Then Miss Wang, how about marrying me?"

Wang Suyi stared at him in bewildered disbelief.

Beneath the bright early summer sun, the young man's warm smile and earnest expression seemed like an opaque wall—impossible to see through.

"Let's talk," he said.Previously, Wang Suyi's impression of Duan Xu was merely that of the renowned third son of the Duan family—tall and handsome, exceptionally talented in literature, and skilled in both horsemanship and archery. According to her good-for-nothing elder brother, Duan Xu had an excellent temper and was cheerful; he had never met someone who smiled so much. Yet, whether interacting with him for a day or a year, the feeling remained the same—somewhat dull.

Perhaps her brother hadn’t realized that this wasn’t dullness, but rather that he had never truly understood Duan Xu—and neither could she.

The news of the engagement between the Duan and Wang families quickly spread, becoming the talk of the Southern Capital’s aristocratic circles. The young General Duan had been the most admired bachelor in the city, leaving countless young ladies sighing in regret. Wang Suyi was also a well-known beauty in the Southern Capital, and in the eyes of others, in terms of family background, talent, and appearance, there was no aspect in which the two were not perfectly matched.

Naturally, this news reached the residence of the Imperial Preceptor. Hejia Fengyi lounged comfortably as his young disciples massaged his shoulders and legs, leisurely enjoying a bowl of red date and white fungus soup—a picture of leisurely indulgence. Between sips, he remarked, “Ancestor, see what I told you the other day? They truly are in love, aren’t they?”

He Simu stood by the desk, sleeves rolled up as she painted, her brush outlining a scene of roses and banana leaves. She had asked Ziji to prepare the vermilion and turquoise pigments in advance, and though she couldn’t distinguish the colors herself, she applied them to the canvas by feel. Just as Feng Yi finished speaking, she set down her brush, completing the painting without acknowledging him.

Seeing that He Simu was ignoring him again, Feng Yi waved his disciples away and sauntered over to her side, admiring the painting with exaggerated praise. “Ancestor, I often think you’re more human than I am. Ziji, come take a look—how could these colors of roses and banana leaves possibly be painted by a ghost who sees hues differently?”

Ziji, who had been grinding ink, glanced at the painting and said simply, “Beautiful.”

He Simu set down her brush and smirked coldly. “That’s probably because you’re especially lazy and ignorant, not even putting effort into being human.”

Feng Yi knew she was referring to his childhood, when she had tried to teach him painting, and he had constantly made excuses to avoid practice. Even now, whenever he drew a spell, she would criticize it for being ugly.

Feng Yi burst into laughter and swiftly changed the subject. “But honestly, for our poor young General Duan, whether they’re in love or not doesn’t matter. He has no choice but to marry according to his family and faction’s wishes.”

He Simu glanced at him and chuckled faintly, offering no comment. Feng Yi detected a hint of disagreement in her gaze and adopted a posture of eager listening. “What? Ancestor, you don’t think so?”

“You don’t understand Duan Xu.”

“Then if one did understand him, how should they view this matter?”

He Simu waved her hand over the painting to dry the ink faster and said indifferently, “He excels at feigning compliance, but no one can make him do what he doesn’t want. He wouldn’t marry someone he doesn’t like—that girl must have either captured his heart or possesses the ability to help him achieve his goals. He wouldn’t force himself into an unfavorable situation.”

Feng Yi, seeing her calm expression and tone, asked with rare seriousness, “Ancestor, he’s getting married. You’re going to lose him. Won’t you be sad?”He knew that He Simu had had many lovers before, but he hadn't managed to meet any of them—by the time he was born, they were all already dead.

From his experience over the years, he had never seen Simu show such patience and understanding toward any other mortal. For Evil Ghosts, understanding mortals was as difficult as painting for someone who saw colors differently. His ancestor was the guardian of the human world, yet she had no idle interest in learning about every single tree or leaf.

"He makes me care," He Simu said after a moment of silence, then chuckled softly. "Perhaps there will be sorrow, but it will be fleeting—shorter even than his transient life."

Hejia Fengyi was quiet for a while, thinking to himself that the ancestor's emotions were truly complicated. He sighed and lay back in his chair, lifting his hand to reveal his slender arm. After a dizzying series of calculations between his fingers, he said, "It's just a shame that Duan Xu's luck has taken a turn for the worse lately. The court is in turmoil, and this marriage will face many twists and turns—he won't make it to the auspicious date I picked. Ancestor, are you really not planning to just snatch him away?"

He Simu replied kindly, "Get lost."